Aditya kept to himself as his cab drove him home after work. Ignoring his driver when the man asked how he was doing, Aditya flexed his fingers, opening and closing them into fists. Rakshan cost me more than money today.
The Medulla account had been valuable not because of the money, but because he’d hoped to win some more WP while negotiating terms. He sighed as he dug out his wallet to pay for his taxi, looking at the worn photo of his parents that lay next to his cash. When his grandfather had brought the family from India to New Jersey decades ago, he’d worked for minimum wage at a motel. But his son had risen to excellence and lived the American Dream.
A lie, if one ever existed. Aditya’s father had managed a successful chain of motels for years, had built out the room where his father lived rent-free in exchange for his labor as a shrine to what hard work could accomplish. Then 9/11 had happened, and Aditya had returned from school one day to find the motel on fire.
Hate had shoved Aditya’s family to the brink of bankruptcy. After several more incidents, bookings had plunged and his father had been forced to sell the business for pennies.
The police had never even caught the arsonist.
Entering his building, Aditya pushed the elevator button harder than necessary. His thoughts raced as fast as the machine taking him up to his apartment.
How can I get more WP now? The science was inconclusive on WP and its effects on influencing people, but Aditya hoped to someday confront the man his father had sold the motel to, hoped to use his WP to convince the man to sell back to them. But perhaps too much time had passed for it to matter. Besides, no one knew the rules about WP’s effects, and that was just how the government liked it.
As the elevator opened onto his place, Aditya walked straight to his favorite room in his apartment. I’ll feel better after a shower.
A shower always put Aditya in a good mood. He didn’t care about getting clean so much as he loved standing on the white tiles with their specks of embedded WP. No designer in New York or anywhere else in America would have allowed him to do more, or he would have made his entire apartment from the drug. It had cost millions to get the bathroom alone, but he’d known the right people to bribe. Of all the bullshit sayings Americans had, “money talks” was one that actually meant something.
Stepping onto the tile as he entered the shower, he opened the faucet and let the worries of his day roll off him along with the water sliding down his skin. Firing Rakshan was for the best; he’d been searching for an excuse to get rid of that arrogant fool. He’d thought having another Indian in the office would be good for him, give him a chance to mentor someone, but the man had proven to be immature and unfocused.
When Aditya had first come to work at Adrsta, the company had been known by a different name. The fund had been run by some antiquated white man whose name no longer mattered.
Aditya had made sure what happened to his father would never happen to him, had guaranteed that the fund manager had no legacy to leave. For five years he’d worked for that ungrateful asshole, opening new channels and markets for the firm to expand into. He hadn’t minded when investors had referred to Indians as monkeys or called the country a shithole (he agreed with that part), but no one had ever appreciated the fact that the monkey was making them all billionaires instead of mere multi-millionaires.
Aditya smiled as he remembered how he’d gotten the last laugh. For months, he’d studied his boss’s routine. When it had become clear that his boss was never going to give him any WP, despite all the promises made, Aditya had stayed late in the company gym one opportune night, then entered the man’s office without knocking. In coital bliss, his boss hadn’t even realized another person was there to witness the affair. He’d been sleeping with his secretary; American men were so weak.
Aditya had staged it like a murder-suicide and taken the man’s safety deposit key. By the time someone had called the cops the next morning, he’d already taken several dozen grams of WP from his boss’s bank. The golden rule was that whoever had the gold made the rules, and so it came to be that no one ever remembered a time when Aditya wasn’t running a hedge fund called Adrsta. Some of the newspapers said just being in proximity to enough WP could alter your mental state…sometimes even the press got their facts right.
Stepping out of the shower, Aditya noted the time on his wall clock and got dressed. On Wednesday nights, he called home like a good son. His father had moved their family north from Edison to Hoboken after selling the business. One final indignity.
“Hanji?”
“Appa, it’s Aditya.”
“My boy!”
Aditya heard the smile in his father’s tone and imagined his dad pacing back and forth, as he so often did when excited.
“Are you eating?” his dad asked.
“All is good.”
“And going to temple?”
“Yes, Appa, the Ganesha temple in Brooklyn.”
“Good, good. Now, yen samachara?”
“No important news, Appa. Just work as usual.”
“How is it going?”
“We had some minor hiccups today, actually. I had to fire one employee. He cost me a large account.” And so much more.
“Oh? You never fired someone before?”
“I have, but this was my first hire after I took over Adrsta. It stung a little, but I’m confident I made the right call.”
“Yes, well, I certainly don’t miss having to fire people…”
“…Appa…”
“I have no regrets. The only difference between life now and life then is that now your amma has more time to bother me!”
Aditya briefly held the phone away from his ear as his mother loudly berated his father for the joke.
“When are you coming home? You must miss your amma’s rasam chadam. I know you can’t get such food in the city no matter how rich you are now.”
“Appa, you’re just buttering her up to make up for your joke.”
“Yes, and it is probably working. Her smile is as radiant as the day I married her.”
“Okay, Appa. Go enjoy the rest of your night. Can you give the phone to Amma?”
“No, no, not yet! I have some serious advice for you.”
“Yes, Appa?”
“This boy you fired, what is he doing now?”
“I don’t know. Why?”
“Be careful. You fired him in public?”
“How did you know?”
“It is the Shetty way. We always want to make examples of these lazy bums. And because you made a public spectacle of him, he will be wanting to take revenge.”
Aditya smirked as he moved from the bedroom, where he’d changed into pajamas, to the kitchen, where he withdrew his bag of WP. No man could ever take advantage of him. Retribution was something the privileged were spared from. He started cutting the drug with caffeine as his father continued to speak.
“I can hear your eyes rolling from all the way from here, but do not forget the story of the tiger and the cobra.”
Aditya had heard it a million times, but he always pretended to forget. Retelling stories brought his father joy in a timeline filled with too little of that. “Yes, Appa?”
“When the cobra first slithered into the jungle, the tiger was king and none could challenge him. But after years of waiting, a drought struck the area and soon there was nothing but heat and thirst to weigh such a strong beast down. Through all of this, the lithe cobra bided its time until the tiger collapsed on its own accord. On that day, the cobra did not even have to kill it—though, of course, it had the means, if it desired, to strike the finishing blow. The cobra knew that real power came from patience and restraint, not brute force. With the tiger having suffered a peaceful death and the cobra able to navigate the crevices of the jungle, it was able to assert its authority and become the new king in a way that ensured that even the tiger’s staunchest supporters would respect the snake’s authority.”
“Okay, Appa.”
“You would be wise to make friends of your employees. Money is no longer enough to purchase loyalty. I learned that the hard way.”
Aditya gripped his phone so tightly it would have broken if he’d already inhaled the WP. “What happened to you is never going to happen to me.”
Without responding to his son’s statement, his father said he would hand the phone to his mom.
“Beta, are you eating?”
“Yes, Amma. I’m actually just about to have a snack.”
“Good. Come home soon, okay?”
“Yes, Amma. I’ll come next weekend. Good night.”
Hanging up, he lifted his phone to throw it across the room before thinking better of it.
The man has to pay for what he did to Appa. Walking back to his room, Aditya retrieved the same book he’d read last night: A Dark Moon Rises. He’d picked it up off the recommendation of some conspiracy theorists he’d found online. If he studied the history of WP for long enough, if he bought into even the most radical conspiracy theories, maybe he’d be able to find justice for his father.
Or maybe I’ll get arrested and break what’s left of my father’s heart. In the darkest recesses of the Internet, on the Dark Web, he knew there was a site that trafficked WP. Was it worth the risk? No. Aditya had a responsibility to his family, had already won some WP legally. I’ll succeed where my father failed by establishing an empire, and in that way I’ll get revenge against not just this man, but The Man.
Walking to his kitchen counter, Aditya used his digital scale to measure out ten milligrams of WP before snorting it.
By the time Rakshan woke up, Abhinav was already gone. By the looks of it, his best friend had emptied out the snack drawer, too. Rolling his eyes as he reminded himself to tease Abhinav for raiding his candy stash, Rakshan heard his phone vibrate with a text message. It was their group chat.
Great seeing everyone last night. No homo, but I missed you guys! Not sure how much you remember, but we should talk. – Ravi
Do it again this weekend? – Krish
A.I. should offer up his house for being a dick last night. – Rakshan
Seriously? – Abhinav
I noticed you ate my fruit roll ups too. – Rakshan
They still make those? – Ravi
What’s the plan? Circle jerk? – Ash
You wish. Probably want to see if anyone else has a micropenis. – Krish
I’ll bring the kingfisher. – Rakshan
Okay, sure, party at my house. – Abhinav
After closing out the group chat, Rakshan texted Abhinav privately.
You know I’m just teasing, right? I appreciate you being on my side last night. I’m going to make sure this weekend ends with them on our side. You’re still with me, right?
His phone pinged a moment later. You know it, boss. This shit has to change.
For the next day and a half, Rakshan did recon work. If he was going to convince his friends to pull off the stupidest, most lucrative crime of the century, he was going to make sure he had as much information as possible before asking them for help. Making his way to Bryant Park, he waited until the time when one of his colleagues always left early. Walking across Sixth Avenue, he “accidentally” bumped into her as she left the office.
“Claire?”
“Rakshan, hi!”
She’d always looked like a model and she knew it. Claire was blonde with alabaster skin that contrasted nicely with the dark-red lipstick she always wore. And, as always, she wore a pendant around her neck laced with stones made of WP.
Though she and Rakshan were the same age, Claire was already on husband number three. She’d joked to Rakshan years ago that the only reason she’d said yes to husband number one was to get the ring and some free dessert. At least, he’d thought it was a joke.
Now, thinking back to what she’d said, he was glad his hands were in his pockets, where she couldn’t see they’d curled into fists upon remembering the waitress who’d insisted he pay for his dessert after Sadiya had dumped him.
“How are you?” Claire said. Her words fell like a hammer on glass, breaking him from thoughts of the past.
“I’m…okay.” Like countless times before, Rakshan forced himself to swallow the bitter pill of injustice. It wasn’t fair that Claire had gotten to keep the ring and the dessert, but soon he’d be in charge of what fair meant. He just had to stick to the plan.
“Look,” she said, “I gotta go, but we should get drinks sometime. I’m really sorry about what happened; I want to help.”
“Sure, that would be nice.” Pity is good, Rakshan told himself. When people pity you, their guard drops. He just had to stay cool for a little longer. Turning to walk away from the office, he glanced back when Claire called his name.
“Hey, what brings you here, anyways?”
Bingo, Rakshan thought. Turning to face her, slumped forward with his hands still in his pockets, he played the victim card. “Oh, uh, I left some gym clothes in the office. It’s nothing anyone would’ve noticed, but I thought maybe one of you could get them for me. You’re in a hurry, though.”
As he turned away again, Claire physically stopped him. When she touched his shoulder, a current ran through his body that injected equal amounts of fear and longing.
“Hey, it’s all right,” she said. “Here’s my keycard. Just, uh, give it back to me tonight. Okay? I’ll text you and we can grab that drink we talked about. Meet me at The Good Citizen?”
“The Good Citizen? It’s going to be nuts there; we’ll need a reservation.”
“Don’t worry about it,” she said. As she flashed Rakshan a smile, he noticed a crown on one of her teeth that was laced with WP.
“You’re sure?”
“Yeah. I trust you.” She smiled as she walked away, missing the sight of him smirking in satisfaction. WP gave people like Claire a lot of advantages, he thought, but she’d used it so often she’d forgotten the importance of paying attention to body language, to her surroundings. Giving someone huge advantages allowed them the luxury of being able to stop paying attention…and that made them an easy mark.
Rakshan had to wait another ninety minutes; Chad always left the office last. It wasn’t that the man was a hard worker; he was just cheap and preferred to use the office gym. Rakshan had watched him work out a few times; his sessions mainly consisted of finding the exact angles to take selfies for Instagram that brought out his blonde hair and blue eyes.
With Chad’s departure, Rakshan used Claire’s keycard to enter the office. Inside, he took a flash drive out of his pocket and inserted it right into the company’s mainframe. He’d be able to track everyone’s calendars, hack into the CCTV, and even execute trades. Of course, he’d be discovered the second he executed a trade or even moved a camera. Still, having eyes on the place and knowing the schedules would help form a plan of action. If he knew when Aditya was here and for how long, he could determine the ideal time to rob the man’s apartment.
My apartment, Rakshan dreamed. It wasn’t at the top of his reasons for robbing his old boss, but Rakshan knew the company owned Aditya’s place and that WP theft rarely ended in anything but death. If he played his cards right, Rakshan could end up with a serious upgrade from his place in Chelsea.
Then Sadiya will definitely come back to me.
When Rakshan arrived at The Good Citizen, it was as packed as he had expected. At first, he didn’t see Claire and tried waving a bartender down on his own, but after several minutes he gave up and returned to the entrance.
“Yo!” She whistled from the bar, first to Rakshan and then to a waiter. Almost immediately, someone appeared to take her order. “Two Maker’s and Cokes.” She smiled again, revealing that crown on her tooth. After waving Rakshan to join her, she took his hand and led them to a table.
“How’s work?” Rakshan nibbled at brussels sprouts flavored with spices as Claire sipped her drink.
“Aditya was late again today. You’d think watching you fuck up with the Medulla brothers would’ve made him even less likely to trust us, but he showed up around eleven and then did maybe a half hour of work before taking a lunch break.”
Rakshan winced at reliving the Medulla disaster, but it was only the truth. Still, it hurt, and Claire drove it home as only a woman could. Remembering his last real conversation with a woman, he rubbed the back of his neck. I miss how she made me feel about myself.
“I think he’s taking too much WP,” Claire said, breaking through his thoughts yet again like the sun through fog. “There’s a reason why it’s only legal for Caucasians; he’s going to become like any other skin grafter if he keeps this up.”
Rakshan’s nostrils flared at her use the slur. It wasn’t even accurate; skin grafters didn’t actually want to change the color of their skin, contrary to what white people thought. Rakshan kept his disgust to himself, though, content in the knowledge that if all went according to plan, he’d soon have more WP than Claire did. “Why do you say Aditya is taking too much?”
Knocking his hand away to take the last brussels sprout, she pierced it with a fork before answering. “Even before yesterday, I’ve seen Aditya messing up with clients. He forgets things. Appointments, finance figures in meetings. More and more, he’s relying on Chad’s notes. And his performance at the gym is uneven. One day he’ll bench three hundred pounds, but the next day he’ll struggle to run an eight-minute mile.”
“I thought you didn’t like the office gym?”
“I don’t like Chad snapping selfies I just ‘happen’ to be in when I’m at the gym.”
Rakshan finished his bourbon as he digested the news about Aditya.
“I’ve heard excess use of WP can lead to not just memory alteration for yourself, but for others, as well,” Claire continued. “I think that’s what’s happening here.” She sighed. “Part of me was happy the Medulla account fell through. If he’d gotten even more WP as part of the deal…what if he gets so much one day that even I’m affected? WP is just too dangerous to trust to anyone but Caucasians.”
Rakshan rolled his eyes at her soliloquy. What tired and unoriginal logic, he thought. As if Caucasians are special. As if this country wasn’t stolen from Native Americans and then built on the backs of slaves.
“Look,” Claire said, unable to avoid addressing his eye roll, “obviously President Brooks is a sociopath. I’m down with the cause; we need a Democratic president to replace him. Still, I couldn’t vote for a Democrat in the midterms. This whole WP-legalization kick they’re on is going to backfire for them.”
“Doesn’t your sister work in politics? Rachel?”
Claire snorted into her drink. “It’s Rebecca. Yeah, she works for Democrats. She didn’t speak to me for months when I told her.” As she finished her liquor, Claire snapped her fingers and was brought another. “She thinks she’s so noble. She’s even smarter than me, you know? And yet she thinks being born into billions is something to atone for.”
“You’re a billionaire?”
Claire giggled. “If I was, I wouldn’t have to schlep for Aditya, just like you.”
You’re nothing like me, Rakshan thought.
“No,” she continued. “Mom and Dad wanted me to earn my own money. All I get is my trust fund.”
I need to change the subject before I crack this glass over her head. Though he’d struggled to get the bartender’s attention before, Rakshan was pretty sure people would notice that. “You’ve got a friend on the legalization beat, right? What does he think?”
“Mueller? He’s always been a sweetheart, since high school, but he isn’t paid to have an opinion. Between you and me, though, I think he’s on my side.”
Standing up, Rakshan motioned that he needed another drink.
“Let me get it,” she said. “Sorry…politics makes us all a little nuts, I guess.”
“And Aditya?”
“It isn’t all bad,” she smiled. “As long as he’s forgetting things, maybe he’ll forget he’s straight and stop checking out my ass every time he thinks I’m not looking.”
The rest of the night was uneventful. Claire asked him about Sadiya during drinks, but he lied and said the wedding would be in a few months.
It’s as good as true, anyway. He knew in his bones that Sadiya would come around once he had some WP. He’d get her an even bigger ring, too, without any tacky sapphires.
Of course she rejected me; he hadn’t had any power that night. Soon, though, he would.
Friday came and went, and by the end of the day, Rakshan and his friends had settled in Abhinav’s house in the secluded town of Redding, Connecticut. While they sat on Abhinav’s gray sectional and enjoyed the beers Rakshan had brought over, Ravi reiterated that it’d be a bad idea to kill Aditya.
“Who said anything about killing him?”
“Give us some credit, Rakshan. We all know what stealing WP requires. You’re not thinking straight.”
“I’m not?”
“No, you’re thinking with your dick. Like every other failed military general in America. Never do something because you’re scared someone thinks you don’t have balls or because you think you can get your dick wet.”
“I thought you were a lawyer, not a historian.” Rakshan rolled his eyes before getting up to pace around the room. He pointed a finger in Ravi’s face. “Besides, this isn’t about Sadiya.”
“It’s not?”
“Do I wish I was marrying her? Of course. I had planned an entire life for us. But this isn’t about that. This is about something every single person in this room wants—getting the recognition we deserve for delivering profits year after year to our firms. And there won’t be any murdering anyone, so don’t use that as an excuse to wuss out.”
“Okay.” Ash sighed. “I’ll bite. What’s the plan?”
“Thanks, Ash. Since it’s Friday night and we’re all still sober, I’ll get to the point quickly, so we don’t have to stay that way.”
Taking out his laptop, Rakshan powered it up and connected it to the eighty-inch curved HDTV mounted on the wall. As he pulled up CCTV footage of Adrsta, Ash and Krish whistled.
“As you can see, I’ve already established video monitoring of Aditya’s workplace.”
“This is very illegal,” Ash said.
“Maybe, but I used a former colleague’s keycard to get inside, so we’re all clear on the legal front.”
Ravi deadpanned. “A jury’s gonna see things differently.”
Ignoring him, Rakshan continued. “The footage is taped over every twenty-four hours, and I know for a fact that Chad isn’t going to review it until Monday. He might be a jackass, but he’s just like every other American in one helpful way, which is that his weekends are spent trying to get laid. He always leaves early on Fridays.”
“Okay,” Krish said. “We have surveillance. So what?”
“We also have access to every staffer’s schedule.” Pounding on the keyboard, Rakshan pulled up a series of tabs on his web browser that displayed Google calendars. “We know when and where these guys are going to be, and so we can plan around that.”
“It’s still impossible to hit One Bryant Park,” Ash said. “McNair Group does security for office complexes like this one. To even stand a chance, you’d need to get access to the CCTV feeds of every single company based there.”
“You’re right,” Rakshan said, “but we won’t be breaking into One Bryant Park.”
“We won’t?”
“No.” Rakshan grinned as he looked his friends in the eyes. “We’ll be robbing Aditya’s home.”
Ash was the first to protest.
“Are you insane?” Setting his beer down and kicking his feet off the table, Ash rose to meet Rakshan so that their noses were almost touching. “I thought it was the alcohol when you first brought it up, but you’re sober now…aren’t you?”
Abhinav smacked his lips as he offered a weak interjection. “It’s…it’s not as crazy as you think.”
Daggers flew out of Ash’s eyes. “Shut up, A.I.”
“Sss…seriously?”
“This was your idea too, wasn’t it? Get us to come to Bumfuck, Nowhere, so we have to put up with this bullshit.”
One hand in his pockets, Rakshan dug his nails into his leg to force himself to stay quiet. He’d texted with Abhinav earlier; the plan would fail if the onus fell on just the two of them to get everyone to agree. He had to be patient; he had to have faith Ravi would speak up. Ravi had to have some legal loophole he could offer up as evidence that robbing Aditya wasn’t hopeless. At least, that was Abhinav’s read on the situation, and Rakshan had to admit his best friend had always understood their family politics better than he did.
Rakshan’s nails dug deeper into his leg. That’s why my parents like him better than me.
Rakshan was sure an hour passed before Ravi finally spoke.
“It wouldn’t be impossible…”
Bingo, Rakshan thought. Ravi thinks he’s driven by logic, but really, he’s just a contrarian and a show-off.
“I’m gonna regret asking this,” Ash said, “but why wouldn’t it be impossible? Even if we managed to steal WP from Aditya without him knowing it was us, we’d still have to convince the rest of the world that we got our hands on the drug legally.”
Ravi took center stage, walking to the center of Abhinav’s living room before turning to face the others, as if he was a lion tamer at the circus. “No homo, but I meant what I said that night. I really do miss you guys.”
Krish hooted as if at a strip club. “Take out your dick.”
Ignoring him, Ravi continued. “I didn’t call in law school or visit while I was in DC because I was so worked up trying to make partner at Eisenhower Blitz. I was obsessed with work, and social status, and I fucking killed it.”
“You still didn’t make partner, though,” Ash said.
Seeing Abhinav and Krish glare in response, Rakshan worked to conceal a smile. Ravi had a no-nonsense exterior, but he was secretly the most arrogant and emotional of their group—that’s what Abhinav had said.
“I didn’t make partner,” Ravi agreed. “I did learn a lot working in intellectual property law, though.”
Time to jump in. “Yeah?”
“There’s a reason Eisenhower Blitz is the most elite law firm in the country,” Ravi said. “Intellectual property cases can turn on a dime when WP is involved.”
Ash’s ears perked up as he leaned into his seat and put his beer down. “How so?”
“Let’s say a person writes a book. They sell it to an agent and then the agent sells it to a publisher. But before it’s released, someone at the publishing house plagiarizes it and decides to self-publish it.”
“The thief hires you to defend them?”
Ravi bit his lip before responding. “…Yeah.”
“And?” Krish towered over the rest of the group as he stood in anticipation.
“Let’s say it was a debut novelist,” Ravi continued. “Someone Brown or Black. And let’s say the thief was Caucasian. In talking to the lawyers, the witnesses, obtaining affidavits, all the thief needs to do is have more WP than the guy suing him. Throw enough WP at a situation, and you can get anyone to believe whatever truth you create. It’s why our cases rarely go to court. People know we can sway a jury like no other.”
“And how’s that happen?” Ash asked. “How do your clients always have so much WP?”
“Our firm gives it to them.”
Rakshan couldn’t mask his surprise. He dropped his beer, the glass bottle spraying its contents all over Abhinav’s rug.
“Dude!” Abhinav raced to his kitchen to grab some paper towels.
“Good thing you aren’t as tall as me,” Krish joked. “The bottle would’ve broken from this height.”
Fuck your height, Rakshan thought. That wasn’t what he said, though.
As Abhinav sponged up the spilled beer, Ravi continued.
“The firm’s been doing this for decades. In return, we get a generous equity stake in whatever we help people steal.”
“And everyone knows about this?” Ash asked.
“No, it’s a huge secret.” Ravi grinned. “People believe what they want to believe. The partners don’t mention it, our funders don’t mention it, and the myth of meritocracy goes on.”
For a long moment, no one spoke. The only sound in the house was Rakshan whistling. “So, how’s it work? Memory loss?”
“Essentially,” Ravi said. “Enough WP use can change a person’s perception of the truth, and innocent until proven guilty only applies to people smart enough to spot the truth. That’s something they don’t teach you in law school; I had to learn it at Eisenhower Blitz.”
“So you didn’t make partner not because you weren’t good enough,” Ash said. “You didn’t make partner because you were too good, and it made you want to puke.”
Ravi looked at the ground, tracing his shoes across some spilled beer. “…Yeah.”
As they traded their beers in for whiskey, Ravi continued to explain how WP theft might be possible.
“One of the biggest things going for us is that Aditya is brown,” he said. “When Aditya goes looking for someone to represent him after being robbed, a firm like Eisenhower Blitz won’t defend him for that reason alone.”
“Wahoo,” Ash joked. “Racism for the win!”
“Hang on,” Krish said. “Are we going to get caught?”
“Yes,” Ravi said. “But it won’t matter.”
Rakshan balled his hand into a fist. Is Ravi about to fuck me? “I think Aditya would disagree…”
“Only Aditya is going to know the truth, and no one is going to care what Aditya thinks,” Ravi said. “We throw around some WP to the press and we’ll have all the people who matter buying our version of events.”
“And what is ‘our version of events?’” Krish asked.
Rakshan seized back the conversation from Ravi. “That I’m the new head of Adrsta. I’ve got the firm, its clients, even the apartment the firm leases to Aditya.” And Sadiya. If this works, I’ve got my family.
“Right,” Ravi said. “And if, by chance, Aditya is able to find counsel, we’ve got two legal defenses that should work well for us: independent creation and abandonment. I’d recommend abandonment for us.”
“And that is?” Krish asked.
“The firm is able to prove that a person surrendered their intellectual property claim. In the case of Adrsta, that’d be the human capital and financial assets Rakshan would own as head of the firm.”
“How so?”
Rakshan saw Ash scratch the insides of his palm as he asked the question. He’s antsy; ready to pounce. Abhinav was actually right. This is working.
“Let’s take the case of the novelist and the thief at the publishing house,” Ravi said. “The novelist knew he didn’t have WP and that the publisher did. He willingly entered into a power dynamic he knew wasn’t remotely equal. Is it fair to sue a lion for eating a gazelle who’s wandered into its den? No. Ergo, the gazelle, the novelist, abandoned his intellectual property the moment he entered into an unequal agreement willingly.”
Krish guffawed. “That’s diabolical.”
“That’s America,” Ravi replied.
Rakshan’s mind raced faster than an Indy 500 driver. “So the press buys our bullshit and it’s a good enough cover story for the masses. What about the actual staff at Adrsta? My colleague, Claire? She’s sharp as a tack. And Aditya’s assistant, Chad, is a moron, but he comes from a well-connected family of politicians. How do we pull one over on them?”
“It’s not about ‘pulling one over’ on them,” Ravi explained. “It’s about nudging them in the right direction, convincing them it’s more advantageous for them to accept this alternate version of reality.”
“Yeah?” How did I become the one who needed more convincing? Damn, Rakshan thought, Ravi is a good lawyer.
“The head of Eisenhower Blitz loves this book, A Dark Moon Rises,” Ravi said. “Some conspiracy book about Vietnam and the My Lai Massacre.”
“I think Aditya has actually talked about it,” Rakshan said.
“That’s great,” Ravi said. “It’ll be easier to paint him as a conspiracy theorist if he goes to court.”
“Didn’t you just say your boss owns a copy, too?”
“Yeah, but he doesn’t brag about it. The best way to hide a lie is in plain sight.”
Krish laughed again.
“It was easy for the government to mask the My Lai Massacre,” Ravi said, “because most people didn’t want to believe our military was capable of committing a war crime like that, anyways. WP isn’t some magical switch; you still have to create a reality that’s more acceptable to the public at large. But once you do that, WP helps you sell it.”
The room grew quiet as a church at a funeral.
“Fuck it,” Ash said. “I’m in. YOLO, right?”
With Ash’s buy-in, stress left Rakshan like a demon exorcised and he continued to explain his plan.
“We’ll know when Aditya’s home is unguarded and for how long. We’ll also have a blueprint of his apartment.”
“How?” Krish asked.
“I’ve been giving my doorman, Tyrone, huge holiday bonuses since the day I moved in. For every Hindu holiday. You guys know how many holidays we have.”
“And?”
“And it just so happens that Tyrone’s friend staffs Aditya’s building. If we cut Tyrone in on a piece of the action, we can get him to provide us with blueprints.”
“What about the security system?”
“We’ll have Tyrone get us specifications on that, too,” Rakshan said. “These systems are evolving all the time, and when the timing is right, we get Tyrone to vouch for us as a security firm to his friend. Then we call the guy, saying we’re installing a state-of-the-art system for one of the residents in the building, and when we get there, he waves us right in. The best part is, we tell Tyrone’s friend he needs to shut the main security system down for us to do our work.”
“Hm,” Krish said. “That’s not actually terrible. So, we’ve got video surveillance, we’ve got blueprints, we’ve got security figured out, we’ve got schedules. What are we going to do with all of it?”
Rakshan continued. “We find a day when Aditya’s working late. That won’t be hard, as he just lost a huge account and will need to work overtime to prove he’s tough enough to handle a major setback. Then, we dress as security staff and tell Tyrone’s friend we’re coming in to upgrade the security. At that point, he lets us walk right in.”
“Hang on,” Krish said. “What if there’s a backup security system? An important building like this could easily have one. Just because Tyrone’s friend thinks we’re a security firm doesn’t mean we are one. We could still trip some alarms.”
“You and Ash are going to get us around that issue,” Rakshan said.
“We are?” Ash chimed in.
“You always wanted to create a VR world of your own, right? Think of this as the ultimate test. You’ve got the blueprints, the security system. Work up real-world scenarios we can practice with and the chances of us setting off the backup alarms will be virtually nonexistent.”
Ash didn’t say anything, but Rakshan saw Krish nodding his head enthusiastically. “The ultimate final exam. Very cool.”
“So,” Rakshan continued, “Tyrone’s friend lets a security firm in—only that firm will be us.” He turned to Ash. “If we take off the name, we can borrow the McNair Group tech suits from your office, right?”
Ash nodded. “Yeah, I can get some.”
“Great,” Rakshan continued. “We’ll wear the uniforms, enter through the front door, and leave with enough WP to last for the rest of our lives.”
A pregnant pause filled the room, and for once in his life Rakshan resisted his basest urge to break the silence.
“Fuck it,” Krish said after a few minutes. “I’m in, too.”
Rakshan and Abhinav punched the air in excitement.
“Ravi? I need you, man.”
Perhaps Ravi was imagining things, but he swore he heard a longing in his friend’s voice. Rakshan’s family made it clear to him years ago that they didn’t value him. What would happen if I backed out now? Especially after getting the others on board? He knew Rakshan would do this with or without him. And he’d meant what he’d said—he’d missed Rakshan, he’d missed everyone.
“Promise me one thing, Rakshan.”
“Anything.”
“Tell me it’s not about the girl.”
“It’s not about the girl.” Rakshan spoke clearly and immediately, and for a moment, Ravi wondered if the answer had been rehearsed. Ignoring his instincts, he joined his friends in a toast. After all these years, it was just like the five friends were back to their college days of debauchery.
“This isn’t some amateur plot from high school,” Rakshan said as they downed shots Abhinav retrieved for everyone. “I’ve already got the blueprints.” Rakshan looked at Krish and Ash. “You guys spend the weekend coding and we’ll be able to create a virtual reality replica of Aditya’s apartment to practice breaking into.”
“Okay,” Ravi conceded. “That’s clever.”
As one group of boys plotted to steal WP, another boy had already pulled off a daring escapade involving the drug. Coming back home from Peter Salem High School, Jerome Johnson came across a ring with sapphires surrounding a diamond center. Taking his headphones off to rest around his neck, he tucked the ring away in his pocket and smacked his lips in excitement.
Forget getting an after-school job, he thought, Mom can stop working extra hours once I sell this. Running home to duck into his room, ignoring his mother’s calls as he closed the door behind him, he examined the ring more closely and found it had flecks of WP on the underside of the band.
Jerome dropped the ring as if it was on fire. As it hit the carpet and rolled to a stop, he bit his lip. He knew the street value alone was probably five thousand, but he couldn’t sell the ring as-is, not until he found a dealer who could extract the stones. Those would be worth enough money that Jerome briefly considered throwing the band away out of fear. Even if someone wasn’t looking for this ring, owning any WP could be hazardous to his health. Still, he wanted to know what it felt like to be white…just for once.
Picking the ring up, examining it like a bomb, he closed his eyes, put it on…and became a god for a moment. It was as if he had been living with one arm tied behind his back and could use both of them now for the first time. A fog lifted from his brain. The restraints that bound his scrawny frame snapped as the drug entered his system.
Muscles formed on his arms right before his eyes. Where before the world had been laid out in black and white, his intuition now saw clear shades of red, green, yellow, blue, violet, and so much more.
“Jerome! It’s dinner time!”
Using all the restraint of a boy who’d survived an inner-city public school education, he took the ring off and instantly felt hollow. As he watched his muscles disappear as quickly as they had come, a hunger tore through him that he knew couldn’t be sated at the dinner table. At the same time, he had a headache. It was as if there was a hole in his head, only he no longer knew where his head was, either. His entire frame of self had been shoved in front of him only to be ripped from his body as quickly as it had come. What magic is this?
“Boy, I’m not calling you again! I know you ain’t doing your homework up there!”
As he ran out of his room to his two-bedroom’s kitchen table, he remembered the shock to his senses. He’d already forgotten WP could be dangerous for someone like him. For Jerome and everyone else who longed for the taste of WP and finally got it, the drug was an all-or-nothing experience—and Jerome was all in.